Lessons Of The Heart Just As Important As Academics

October 11, 1986|By Jennifer Hinson

As I sit beside my child's bed tonight, I run my fingers through her tousled hair. My mind wanders back to when I was young and, like my little one, spent the majority of my waking hours with a person who would not only instruct me in academics but who would ultimately play a major role in shaping my young life: my schoolteacher.

Ah, Mrs. Cain, that you were here today to take my child by the hand and teach her of learning and of life. What would you say if you looked into the sophisticated school rooms of today? A far cry from our room at Marks Street Elementary in Orlando, where the closest thing to high-tech equipment was an old upright piano.

I think, Mrs. Cain, that your main concern would be for the children . . . the children of today whose young minds are filled to overflowing with the intricacies of computer science and the ''new math,'' but who go away with hearts unmoved and souls wanting for direction and a human touch.

You were such a master in teaching lessons of the heart, and to this very day I can feel the lasting impression of what your students fondly remember as ''The Lesson of the Gloves.''

Forty-two children had saved to buy you a pair of gloves for your birthday. Your eyes shown with tears at this evidence of our deep affection. With great care, the gloves were placed on your desk for all to see, and amid reluctant sighs, daily activities resumed.

But when we prepared to leave that afternoon, a flurry arose when one of the children discovered her change purse was missing. We were quite bewildered, and there was much speculation as to who the culprit might be.

You said, ''Someone in this room has hurt me very badly. You ask how? Because I love each one of you and it hurts me when you do something that is wrong. I could not wear these gloves and feel happy knowing that one of you has done this thing. I will not wear them again until the person responsible comes to me, in private, so we can talk about how to make things right again.''

Those words struck a terrible blow to our hearts, and we watched as you slowly placed the gloves on a hook in the front of the room.

Three days later you took the gloves down. We rejoiced in the smile on your face and the gloves on your hands, and knew that a wayward fellow classmate had been rescued from the error of his ways, and group of youngsters had learned a valuable lesson about life.

You were able to maintain control over us, Mrs. Cain, because you made us love you. And you made us love you by first loving us.

I am brought back to the present by my child's restless movement, and I reach out to soothe her, and make a silent appeal to the one who holds her life in their hands during precious moments each day:

Take my child, teacher, and instruct her in the things that are fundamental: How to read, write, figure and, yes, how to operate a computer. But please, dear teacher, speak to her heart, and with my help let her learn the value of each human being, and most important, the value of herself.